


Defenestration

by 7PercentSolution



Series: Got My Eye on You [16]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 14:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6010555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7PercentSolution/pseuds/7PercentSolution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the call came into Greg, he feared the worst. But Sherlock was in control...and Greg learns to deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defenestration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bendingthewillow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendingthewillow/gifts).



"We've had a break-in at Baker Street. Send your least irritating officers and an ambulance."

 _Oh, God._ DI Lestrade's imagination played a scene of death and destruction. Sherlock hadn't called for an ambulance when the flat across the street was blown up at the beginning of Moriarty's "game", despite the flying glass and being completely blown off his feet by the blast wave. So, if he is asking for an ambulance this time…. "Who's been hurt? You, John, or both?"

"Oh, no-no-no-no-no, we're fine. No, it's the, uh, burglar. He's got himself rather badly injured."

The movie in Greg's head changed mid-scene. Now he was worried about a dead burglar;  _Please don't make it over some minor theft._  Lestrade knew that Sherlock sometimes found it hard to understand the dividing line between a proper response and one that was "over-the-top" when meting out justice to some criminal who had dared to presume that he could use physical violence against the detective. In those cases, at least he had an excuse of self-defence against a violent criminal. The DI had no idea what would happen if something like his precious skull had been nicked by some crazy kid for a dare. The tight clipped tones of that baritone voice betrayed just how wound up Sherlock was- and that scared Greg.

"How bad are his injuries?"

"Oh, a few broken ribs, fractured skull ... suspected punctured lung."

Greg's heart sank.  _Please don't let the burglar press charges._  "You know that defending your property only allows you to use reasonable force, Sherlock. I hope you haven't done something that you will regret if he accuses you of assault."

Sherlock's reply was reassuring: "He fell out of a window," and then he hung up.

DI Lestrade was not one to encroach on other officers' territory. Protocol inside the Met was pretty tight. The Homicide and Serious Crimes Division in which he worked was keen to avoid wasting resources on more mundane everyday crime. So, Lestrade's first instinct was to say, "Not my division."

Still, this was Sherlock. Who knows what might be involved? Besides, he wasn't sure that he wanted to leave a burglar for any length of time to the not-so-tender mercies of Sherlock. So he rang for an ambulance on 999, and then he called the local police station nearest to the flat, insisting the St John's Wood Crime Investigation Unit treat it as a priority. As the perpetrator was still on the premises, he decided he could legitimately justify telling the local bobbies to put in an appearance. He knew from experience that otherwise it might be days before they got around to a routine break-in, so he made sure they agreed to send a car around as quickly as possible.

He then spent the next hour trying to finish the paperwork on his Murder Investigation Team's latest arrest. It was hard to concentrate on it, however, as his mind kept going back to his phone call with Sherlock. The man had not sounded upset or annoyed; he'd been  _angry._  That worried Lestrade. The DI knew that Sherlock was rarely roused to anger. Sarcasm was his more usual reaction to someone doing something threatening. He'd been with him when suspects were apprehended, sometimes after a chase and pursuit that got physical before an arrest could be made. But Sherlock was almost always in control of himself. It was funny that; some of his own officers could lose it, if the victim was a child, or vulnerable adult- and an arrest would be a little "physical" as a result. One more reason for Sally Donovan to call him a Freak, when he didn't react the way the rest of the team did.

 _So, what's got him angry this time?_  It kept niggling him.

Finally, he gave up and closed the report. He'd call it a day and head over to Baker Street to see what actually had happened. He came around the corner from the Underground Station and was surprised to see both a squad car and an ambulance still at the scene.

It might have been the black government car that was pulling away from the kerb that tipped him off that this was something more than just a simple burglary. And then he got really worried as he passed a flack-jacketed SO19 officer carrying away a pistol with a silencer on it in a transparent evidence bag.

He found Sherlock in the hallway of the flat, finishing his statement to a Sergeant from St John's Wood.

"…no, you can't interview her yet. She's still shaken by the encounter. A doctor is with her now in her flat back there. If she's feeling up to it tomorrow, she might give a statement."

Lestrade looked horrified. "Mrs Hudson?! Oh God, is she alright? Did the burglar hurt her?"  _Oh no; now he's got motive._  Greg knew that Sherlock made a considerable exception to his sociopathic tendencies for his landlady.

"Bruises and scrapes; John is with her now."

The Sergeant looked annoyed at the DI's intrusion. "Just who are you, and why are you on my Crime Scene?" Greg showed his warrant card.

The Sergeant threw his hands up in the air, "Oh, for Christ's sake, now a Murder Investigation Team? To hell with it! I give up!" and he stalked off back down the stairs, watched by an incredulous Lestrade.

Sherlock just shook his head. "Don't bother, Lestrade. He's just in way over his head."

Lestrade shrugged his shoulders and opened his hands in a gesture of confusion. "What is going on, Sherlock?"

"Turns out that the burglar is claiming diplomatic immunity. That government car which just pulled away had some irritating fellow from the American embassy trying to pull rank. Your poor local policeman plod has just been pushed around by SO6, then SO19, then the Americans,  _and_  finally Mycroft's lot. The chances of this ever seeing the inside of a courtroom are nil."

"What was he trying to steal?"

Sherlock looked at the DI. "I'm afraid that I can't answer that. According to Mycroft's minion, I am not at liberty to discuss it."

Greg rolled his eyes. "That normally doesn't stop you, so if you are going to refuse to answer my question, it's because you don't want me to know." He thought about it for a while, and then carried on "…which means it's probably something to do with the last time you called the police by firing a gun in the street in Belgravia."

"You might think that, Lestrade; I couldn't possible comment." He smirked.

The sound of a siren starting drew Greg and Sherlock back out to the street, where they watched the ambulance pull away.

"Why's it taken so long for them to take the man to hospital?"

Sherlock smirked. "Well, he landed in a rather awkward place- on top of Mrs Hudson's bins, in the back. Took them a while to realise he was there and then to figure out how to move him without risking a spinal injury."

"And exactly how many times did he fall out the window?"

"It's all a bit of a blur, Detective Inspector. I lost count."

Lestrade gave him a look, one borne of years of knowing him.  _What the fuck, Sherlock?_

The tall brunet gave him one of those fake reassuring smiles of his.

Greg sighed and headed back across the road toward the underground station. He didn't like being kept on the outside; whatever was going on with this Adler woman was starting to really worry him. And he really, really didn't like Sherlock keeping secrets from him.


End file.
